


Air Supply

by MsImpala67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 09:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9228362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsImpala67/pseuds/MsImpala67
Summary: Dean can't let Sam shower alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure porn because I wanted to write breath play. Hope you enjoy!

Sam’s a kinky bastard.

Living in the bunker has changed their relationship. Being safe enough to fall asleep with their guns on the nightstand instead of in their hands, having a kitchen to cook real meals in, having a place that they have to clean themselves…it’s all so domestic.

They sleep later now, sometimes cuddling, sometimes sleeping so deep that it doesn’t matter if they are touching or not. They take long showers alone and together, hot water with pressure that is so luxurious it borders on sinful. They take turns doing laundry and sweeping the floor.

But as Dean watches Sam toss his dirty clothes in the hamper, door to the bathroom not quite closed as he turns the shower on, he remembers suddenly that he’s still Sam.

And Sam likes it rough. Hard. Always has.

Dean grins as he looks at Sam’s long, muscled body, the absolute epitome of sexy even though that isn’t Sam’s intention at the moment. It takes Dean no time to pull off his own clothes and head into the shower, the large room already filling with steam.

The shower is built like a locker room, with multiple shower heads available. They each have their own designated side where they keep their own shampoo and soap, but Dean just turns his own stream of hot water on, then slides over to press right against Sam. There’s water hitting them from all sides now, both of them feeling it, no one left out in cool air as the other blocks the stream.

Sam leans back into Dean for a second before tossing his hair, trying to get the wet strands out of his face before he turns around.

Dean doesn’t hesitate. He just shoves at Sam’s solid wall of a chest and pushes him against the wall, hand instantly curling around his neck. Sam groans and closes his eyes, cock hardening between their bodies so quickly that Dean knows it has to be borderline painful.

“Just looked so fucking sexy, baby boy. Couldn’t let you take this shower alone.”

Sam whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, drops of water running over his tan skin, making it glitter in the light. He still doesn’t open his eyes.

That’s another thing Dean loves about living this wonderful, domestic life. They are safe in here. Safe enough that Sam will keep his eyes closed so he can feel. No keeping an eye or ear open for monsters, no need to be alert.

The water isn’t great lube, but it will work. Dean slides a hand down Sam’s side, walks his fingers down the trail of hair beneath Sam’s belly button until he reaches his cock.

Both hands squeeze at the same time, long and powerful fingers around his erection and his neck, the two most vulnerable parts of Sam’s body, and Sam just lets him. He spreads his legs a little, grabs onto Dean’s sides to brace himself, and lets him. Gives it all up, because he can, here in their home.

Sam opens his eyes then, but not because he needs to look out for anything. He just wants to look at Dean. Their eyes meet, eyes that have seen everything, eyes that still want to look at each other in spite of that, and Dean groans as he tightens his hand around Sam’s throat, cutting off his air supply.

He jerks Sam hard and fast, circling his thumb around the head like Sam likes, letting his fingers brush against Sam’s balls as often as he can. Sam stares at him with parted lips, skin reddening with the steam and the arousal and the lack of oxygen, looking like he wants to cry out, the gasp stuck in his throat, unable to pass by Dean’s closed hand.

“Tell me when, Sammy,” Dean growls, jerking Sam’s cock harder, seeing nothing but the way Sam’s eyes lose focus and his upper lip curls into a snarl. Sam’s fingers go loose on his sides, resting instead of squeezing, and then Sam reaches up to tap his wrist twice.

Dean lets go, drops to his knees to suck Sam’s cock into his mouth while Sam lets out a groan that echoes off the tiled walls. He has to taste it, has to feel the weight of it on his tongue, velvety soft skin over pulsing blood. Right here, on his knees in the shower, Dean prays to Sam.

“Do it again,” Sam begs, answering Dean’s prayer.

Dean stands and clamps his hand down over Sam’s throat again, pushing his own body against Sam’s this time so that it’s harder to jerk him off, so that Sam can feel all of him like he wants to feel all of Sam.

Their dicks slot together like opposite ends of a magnet, and Dean just ruts against him now instead of using his hand. He groans, makes all the sounds that Sam can’t make right now, pushes his hips against Sam’s over and over until he can feel Sam’s dick swell even more against his own. He leans in and presses his lips to Sam’s, holding his own breath unconsciously as he gets closer and closer, getting off on the power he has right now.

Sam doesn’t have to tell Dean this time. Dean feels the first tremble of Sam’s orgasm and lets go.

“Fuck,” Sam screams, gasping for air. His fingers grab for Dean’s shoulders, bruising with how tightly he holds on as his body bows under Dean, coming and coming, long and thick streaks that get washed away before Dean can enjoy them like he wants to.

Dean kisses the fingerprints left on Sam’s throat as he comes down. Sam just folds into him, clinging to him, making the sweetest little noises, noises that let Dean know exactly what a good job he did. Dean runs his hands through Sam’s hair, down his face to cup his cheeks, to press soft and gentle kisses everywhere he can reach.

Eventually, Sam recovers, and Dean finds himself slammed against the wall of the shower so quickly that he isn’t sure how he even got turned around. Sam is already on his knees in front of him.

“Can I, Dean? Please?”

Sam looks well used and so pretty kneeling there, begging to suck Dean’s cock, that Dean can only nod.

Instantly, Sam manhandles one of Dean’s legs over his shoulder so that he can nudge and nose his way farther, can slide his tongue down and back to get at Dean’s hole.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean hisses, surprised. He puts a hand on Sam’s head and relaxes into it, watches the dips and rolls of Sam’s shoulders as he works his tongue inside of Dean.

Yeah, Sam is a kinky bastard.

Dean sure as hell enjoys the fuck out of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! XOXO


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